


i found love where it wasn't supposed to be

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, M/M, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier hates soulmates. Geralt doesn't need one; he has Yennefer. Or so they think.
Relationships: (Minor), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 582





	i found love where it wasn't supposed to be

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo enjoy  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Jaskier laid beside the sleeping woman; a young redhead with striking green and freckles. He barely remembered taking her to bed last night but certainly it was his doing; his bed partners rarely initiated things. But they never said no when he did.

He thought about waking up but decided there was no point. Soon enough they’d just be strangers again.

Slipping out from under the covers, he found his clothes and pulled them back on, one piece at a time. His shoes were harder to find–shoved under the bed–but soon he was dressed up and ready to go.

Jaskier found his lute in a chair in the corner of the room, gently placed there. He tried remembering if he’d done that or the woman. He almost felt guilty as he picked it up.

Walking to the door, he was stopped by the rustling of sheets.

“Hey,” the woman’s voice was low, tired. “You’re leaving already?”

Jaskier turned on his heels and smiled brightly, forcing it. “Sorry, did you… need something?” he asked and ignored the guilt he felt at the poor look on her face.

“Oh, no,” she stammered, sitting up and clutching at the sheets. “I was just–”

He knew what she was thinking–he always did. They always wondered the same thing. Jaskier pulled down his shirt and exposed his mark, obscenely located a few inches away from his nipple.

“Oh,” she said, slow. Her eyebrows, red like her hair, drew together. “Is that–”

Jaskier sighed and adjusted his shirt. “A wolf with a lute, yes. Please,” he gestured grandly, “you would not be the first to laugh. Go ahead. Really, I don’t mind.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t laugh. She turned a bit and showed off her own mark in the middle of her smooth, freckled back. A bunch of blue flowers. It was cute, like most marks tended to be, especially on women.

“Endearing,” he said.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, looking more fond than angry. “Go ahead.”

Jaskier waved as he slipped out the door, realizing he still hadn’t gotten her name. Oh, well. He shrugged and went to the market in search of some food, counting his leftover coins on the way.

Geralt rolled over and met the piercing eyes of his lover. She smiled, just barely. “Good morning.”

He grunted in reply and she rolled her eyes, entirely fond, as she sat up.

“So,” she said, smoothing out a few wrinkles in the sheets. “You promised you’d accompany me to the market.” She raised her dark eyebrows, waiting.

Geralt groaned and rolled back over. She poked him in the back.

“Geralt,” she said. “Come on.”

He buried his face in the pillow. “Tomorrow, Yen,” he said. “Tired.”

“You said that yesterday,” she pointed out and the bed shifted as she stood up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said and he started to roll over, confused, before he felt himself being pushed off the bed with a blast of familiar magic, falling to the floor with a loud thud.

He sat up and glared at her. She just grinned toothily.

“See you out front in a few minutes,” she said as she turned and left the room.

Geralt sighed loudly and stood up. He walked to the dresser, pausing when he passed the mirror Yennefer had insisted they buy for their room. His mark, high on his shoulder, was as visible as always.

He turned to get a better look. Yennefer had a habit of making fun of his mark as if her mark was any better; low on her back, flowers on fire.

“Hurry up,” she called from the kitchen and he grumbled, digging for clothes.

Jaskier stopped at a familiar stall and smiled at the young girl behind it. “Hi, Ciri,” he greeted. “Anything good?”

Cirilla grinned, a little toothy, and reached down behind the stall. She reappeared with a basket of fresh tomatoes.

“Ohh,” he said, reaching out for one. His hand was quickly smacked away by Cirilla’s grandmother.

“Payment first,” she said sternly.

Cirilla pouted, cradling the basket to her chest. “But–”

“You can’t be so kind, my cub,” she said, putting a heavy hand on top of her head. “Especially to leeches like Jaskier.”

Jaskier gasped, mock offended, before pulling his bag of coins out of his bag. “I should get a discount,” he said as he counted out the proper amount, “for emotional damages.”

Cirilla giggled, like she always did at his corny jokes, and he grinned.

Calanthe shoved her hand in Jaskier’s face impatiently and he dropped the coins in it. “Very well,” she said. “Go on, Cirilla.”

Jaskier accepted the basket with a bright smile. “Thank you, Ciri, I’ll enjoy them.”

“Play me another song soon?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

Jaskier was halfway through chewing a bite of tomato when he answered, “I would be honored,” he said, pressing the hand with the tomato to his chest. Cirilla giggled and he looked down, frowning at the red stain on his shirt. “Oopsie.”

Calanthe sighed, rubbing at her temples as she walked to their carriage, leaning against it. She was getting old, as much as she denied it, and Jaskier sometimes wondered what would happen to the young girl if she passed away.

“I’ll come back tomorrow and play you my newest piece, okay?”

Cirilla beamed. “Okay.”

Jaskier smiled softly before he turned and walked away. As a traveling bard, he rarely had any constants in his life but Cirilla was one of them–she and her grandmother traveled, too, stopping at different markets around the Continent for weeks at a time before moving on when sales started to suffer.

Geralt walked with Yennefer through the market, ignoring some of the odd looks thrown their way. He was used to it. Not only were they odd by themselves–a witcher and a sorceress–but they were even odder as a pair, considering they weren’t, well, soulmates.

“You think they’d be over us by now,” Yennefer whispered, low enough just for him to hear. “I mean, we’ve been here for months.”

Geralt snorted. “Humans have small attention spans, incredibly so, until–of course–you want them to,” he said.

“Mhmm,” she agreed as she stopped in front of a stall, eyeing the fruit and vegetables.

Geralt wasn’t a big fan of shopping or cooking or, well, much of anything. But he humored Yennefer, who–despite everything–liked living normally. Like humans do.

“We should get some blueberries,” she said finally, already pulling out a few coins. She smiled sweetly at the girl behind the stall. “A serving of blueberries, please.”

The young girl accepted the payment and Yennefer picked up a container of blueberries. Geralt had to admit they smelled amazing.

“You’re very pretty, by the way,” the young girl said, almost shy.

Yennefer smiled at her, eyes sparkling. “Thank you.” She tucked the container under one of her arms and extended a hand. “Yennefer; I haven’t seen you around the market before.”

“Cirilla,” the girl said, shaking her hand lightly. “My grandmother and I just stopped here for the season.”

She looked over at Geralt curiously, and Yennefer nudged him sharply.

“Geralt,” he greeted plainly, “of Rivia.”

Cirilla smiled brightly. “I hope you like blueberries, Geralt of Rivia.”

“He loves them,” Yennefer assured her.

They walked away after that and stopped at a few different carts. Yennefer must’ve noticed he was acting funny because she stopped him after the fourth or fifth cart.

“What’s going on?” she asked, not unkindly, searching his face.

Geralt didn’t really know himself. “I feel–off,” he said slowly.

Yennefer touched his arm gently. “Just try explaining it,” she encouraged.

“I feel–hot all over, and breathing is… kind of hard, like there’s something in the air,” Geralt started, and Yennefer squeezed his arm.

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said. “We should see the local healers.”

Geralt rolled his eyes as he turned away. “I’m fine, Yen,” he assured her.

“There could be something wrong,” she said, following him. “You could be sick or–or maybe there’s a monster nearby and your senses are all messed up because of it.”

Geralt looked over at her. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Really.”

She still didn’t look convinced but she nodded anyway, dropping it.

Jaskier walked into the small hut he was staying at. He had thankfully befriended a sweet woman–who, for once, he simply could not charm–during his first day in the town and she’d offered him a place to stay (with payment, of course).

Payment mostly involved cleaning, no actual coins.

“Hey, Triss,” he greeted when he saw her on the one bed in the small hut (he pointedly had never asked and simply slept on the floor from the start).

She looked up and smiled kindly, tucking her things away. “Hey, Jaskier.”

Not many of the townsfolk knew Triss was a sorceress and she liked to keep it that way, reasonably so.

He walked over and plopped on the bed, near the foot of it, keeping comfortable distance between them. “Can I do the cleaning in the morning?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Triss smiled again and tucked a few curls behind one of her ears. “Of course,” she answered. She scooted closer and peered at him curiously. “Is everything okay? You rarely skip cleaning.”

Jaskier shrugged. “I haven’t been feeling… amazing since the market, honestly.”

“Oh,” she said with deep concern. “Here, uh–let me.”

Reaching up, she touched his forehead with both her thumbs and closed her eyes, obviously concentrating. “Oh–oh,” she breathed, opening her eyes. “Jaskier, um. Well. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“What?” he asked quickly. “Am I dying?”

Triss smiled sheepishly and put her hands back in her lap. “Not exactly.”

“I feel better,” Geralt said when Yennefer walked into their room with dinner.

Looking skeptical, she walked over and joined him on the bed, balancing the tray. She handed him a bowl of steaming soup and took the other. “Do you?” she asked. “Or are you just saying that to get me off your ass?”

He smirked. “A little of both.”

“I knew it,” she said with a huff. “Bastard.”

Geralt dipped his spoon in the soup. “Witchers don’t really… get sick, that’s the thing,” he said slowly. “Not unless it’s poison or something. We don’t get–”

“Human ailments,” she finished. “I know.” Her eyes were soft. “Now do you understand why I’m so worried?”

He grunted as he finally lifted the spoon to his mouth, blowing on it.

“Fine, okay,” she said. She leaned over and put her bowl of soup on the small stand by their bed. Without asking, she grabbed Geralt’s bowl and moved it out of the way, too.

Geralt stared at her blankly.

“If you won’t see a proper healer, at least let me check you out,” she said.

Geralt huffed out a laugh. “I think you do that plenty already.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes and turned in the bed, facing him. “Shut up and let me get it over with,” she commanded and he sighed. “That’s more like it.” Reaching up, she cupped his face and closed her eyes.

It was instant; the pull she felt and the heat and–

Her eyes opened, comically wide. Geralt ignored the ball in the pit of his stomach. “What?” he prompted when she didn’t say anything.

“Geralt,” she whispered. “I–um. It’s nothing.” She looked away and grabbed his soup, handing it back.

Geralt watched her closely. “Yen, what is it?”

“Nothing,” she said, too fast. “Just–you have a bad headache or something.” Yennefer dipped her spoon in her soup and swallowed the spoonful without even blowing on it. “No big deal.”

He hmmed, looking away. “Okay,” he said.

“You’re kidding, right?” Jaskier asked, staring at Triss with wide eyes.

She smiled nervously, fidgeting with her hands. “You’re feeling the pull of your soulmate,” she said. “You two must’ve crossed paths unknowingly and now the pull won’t stop until you meet again.”

He could hear a rushing in his ears. “I–you know how I feel about soulmates,” he said, a little too fast. “I’m not interested in any of it.”

“I know,” she said, softly. “But… I don’t think that matters. Your body is reacting normally.”

Jaskier stood up suddenly and started pacing the small hut. “Wh–what do I do?” he said, mostly to himself. “Is there a way to stop the pull?” He turned on his heels. “Triss, you’re a sorceress, you have to know something.”

Triss pressed her lips together. “Magic doesn’t work on the pull,” she said after a moment. “Nothing will stop it.”

Jaskier groaned, pulling his hair. “So, what?” he asked, nearly shouting.

“I don’t think the issues you’re having will get worse,” she said slowly. “You’re at the peak of it, so.”

Jaskier looked at her. “But it won’t get better, will it?”

“No,” she answered honestly.

Jaskier sighed loudly, slumping back on the bed. “How do I find them?”

“Just call out for them, and you will find them,” she said.

Jaskier eyed her skeptically. “Sorry,” he said. “Try again?”

“Right,” she said. “I forget you know absolutely nothing about soulmates,” she continued, not unkindly. Turning, she tucked her legs underneath her and faced him. “Once you’ve gotten the initial pull, you can… kind of communicate with them after that.”

Jaskier stared at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can’t say I’m hearing any voices.”

“Not like that,” she chided, gently smacking his arm. “It’s not with words; it’s… you can feel the other person. Okay, look.” Triss scooted closer and grabbed his hands. “Close your eyes.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically but obeyed, closing his eyes. Triss squeezed his hands.

“Now relax,” she instructed in a soft voice. “Take deep breaths, focus on the pull.”

Jaskier purposely forced his shoulders down, relaxing his body, taking a deep breath. He zeroed in on the pull, like a gentle tug on his heart. Triss squeezed his hands lightly. “Okay,” he said. “I–I’m doing it, I think.”

“Okay, now just keep doing it,” she said.

Jaskier frowned. “Triss, I don’t think this is going to wor–” Suddenly he could feel–something. His stomach was warm, full, but he hadn’t eaten anything since the market. He felt fingertips, soft as a feather, moving down his chest. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, opening his eyes.

Triss looked excited, but like she was doing a bad job at hiding it. “Did you feel it?”

“I–I think so,” he breathed. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. “I think my soulmate is currently getting laid.”

Yennefer leaned down, kissing him, deep and heady. Geralt curled his fingers in her hair, tugging lightly, and she moaned.

Pulling back, she perched on his lap and reached out, gently running her fingers down Geralt’s chest, slow, slow.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, pushing her away.

Yennefer went tumbling out of his lap, wide-eyed. “Geralt, what the fuck?”

“I–I don’t know,” he said, looking around the room. “That was–”

Yennefer sat at the end of the bed, pursing her lips. “What, Geralt?” she prompted. “Talk to me.”

He stopped looking around the room and focused on her. “It was like… I don’t know; I didn’t feel like myself for a second.” Reaching up, he pressed a hand to his forehead. “I think I might really be sick.”

Yennefer watched him silently. “Perhaps we should just get some sleep.”

Geralt nodded curtly. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry.”

Jaskier stopped by Cirilla’s stall again, smiling brightly at the young girl. She jumped excitedly at the sight of his instrument.

“Come on,” she said, making grabby hands. “Sit, play something.”

Laughing, he walked around the stall. Cirilla scooted over, making room for him on the crate, and he sat down. He played a few songs and, like usual, his singing attracted a few townsfolk, who ended up being roped into buying stuff by Cirilla’s pout and big eyes.

He laughed, leaning his lute against the stall for a break. “You’re terrible,” he teased, nudging her.

She beamed. “I’m smart,” she corrected. “Want a snack?”

Jaskier grinned. “Your grandmother will be mad,” he said knowingly.

“It’s okay,” Cirilla said, snatching two apples from one of the baskets. “She doesn’t have to know.”

He accepted one of the apples, perfectly ripe, and took a bite, chewing slowly. Cirilla was looking at him kind of funny and he raised an eyebrow.

“What, do I have something on my face?”

Cirilla smiled, soft and a little amused. “No, there’s just something… different about you,” she said. “I just can’t pinpoint it.”

Jaskier looked away. Triss had mentioned something about this–that some people, gifted and rare, could tell when a person had encountered their soulmate. They were seen as highly important and sought after. He had never considered Cirilla could be one of them. “Probably just a little paler than usual,” he said with a harsh laugh. “I’ve been feeling a bit sick lately.”

“Oh,” she said, buying it easily enough. “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I hope you feel better.”

He almost laughed again, bitter. Yeah, that was probably not going to happen. Not without turning his life upside down, ruining everything. Jaskier had given up on the concept of soulmates when his father left his mother, no longer interested despite their matching marks.

“Well, I should probably go,” he sighed after finishing his apple. “I still have some cleaning to do.”

Cirilla nodded, smiling. “I’ll see you later?”

Jaskier stood up and ruffled her golden hair. “Of course,” he said, picking up his lute. “Be safe, and keep scamming!” he called with a grin as he walked away, waving. He was almost back at the hut when he felt it again: a painful tug on his heart.

He fell to his knees, closing his eyes as he took deep, shaky breaths.

Yennefer watched, helpless, as Geralt fell to his knees, clutching his chest. She ducked down and put a hand on his back. “Geralt, Geralt, what’s wrong?”

“It’s–it’s back again,” he gasped. “My chest–hurts.”

Yennefer rubbed his back in slow circles and looked around. She saw him before he saw her; a young man doubled over on the ground, eyes closed and taking deep gulps of air.

She frowned, deep. “Geralt,” she said. “We should head back, get you in bed.”

He groaned and nodded, standing up with her help. Yennefer turned him away from the kid.

Jaskier waited until the pain had subsided, just a little, to open his eyes. He spotted, a few feet away, a man and woman. His heart squeezed painfully and he stood up on shaky legs.

The woman looked back at him and startled before relaxing again, glaring.

She was beautiful with light skin and black curls. He gulped and wondered:

Had he found her?

Jaskier tried to take a step forward but he couldn’t. He blinked, once, and looked up. The couple was gone. Frowning, he tried again and stepped forward with no problem.

He stared down at his feet, confused, before he turned and continued on his way. Triss was in the garden when he arrived, tending to a few dead flowers. She used her magic and brought them back to life.

“Triss,” he said. “I–I think I found her.”

She turned around. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a huff of laughter, “and she’s a fucking magician.”

Yennefer sat by the bed, holding Geralt’s hand. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleep, she could tell. She squeezed lightly. “I think I need to tell you something,” she said.

He grunted, not opening his eyes.

“Geralt, the other night, I… didn’t exactly tell the truth,” she admitted.

He opened his eyes at that, barely an inch. “What?” he asked, voice rough.

“Well, you see–” she stopped, biting the inside of her cheek. “I–”

Geralt groaned in pain and shivered, squeezing her hand, hard. “Fuck, Yen, don’t you have–something you can do?”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Yes, just. Okay.” She pulled her hand out of his grip and reached up, cupping his face. She recited something under her breath and he went limp, finally asleep.

Pulling her hands back, she tucked them in her lap.

Jaskier asked around and discovered the only other magician in town was a woman named Yennefer. He was torn between nerves and excitement.

Thankfully, a man pointed him in the right direction and he found her cottage, tucked away in the woods, not too far from the market. He probably never would’ve found it without help.

Taking a deep breath, he ignored the stabbing pain in his chest and knocked.

She answered not two seconds later, a frown on her face. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

Jaskier swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Listen, based on your actions the other day, I’m assuming we feel the same way about the whole soulmate thing, so–”

“Stop right there,” she said curtly. She unlaced her dress and turned, pulling it down. There was no missing her mark.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, at a loss for words. “But I was positive–”

Yennefer pulled back up the top of her dress and turned around. “Well, you were wrong.” She raised her eyebrows. “Evidently.”

Jaskier heard a pained groan, and Yennefer winced, closing the door most of the way. “Is that your–?”

“My lover, yes,” she replied tersely. “He’s sick.”

Jaskier nodded, feeling guilty. “Sorry for bothering you, then. I’ll be going.” He turned and walked off the porch, down the dirt path, and eventually out of sight.

Yennefer sighed heavily and closed the door, locking it. She returned to their room and brushed a few strands of sweat-slicked hair out of Geralt’s face.

“You’ll be okay,” she said softly. She repeated the spell, putting him back under, and grabbed a coat.

The only healer in the town was an older man. Yennefer skipped the line and pushed her way in.

“I need your help,” she said when he just stared at her.

He nodded slowly. “What do you need that you cannot do yourself, sorceress?”

Yennefer smiled tightly. “Geralt–”

“The Witcher,” he interrupted, and she clenched her jaw.

“Yes, him–he’s reacting… really badly after, well.” She squared her shoulders and lowered her voice. “After crossing paths with his soulmate.”

The healer nodded again. “Most have reactions to it,” he explained.

Yennefer frowned. “I know,” she snapped, “but this is… bad, really bad.”

“Well,” the healer said, folding his hands together. “Not a lot of studies have been conducted on Witchers and soulmates,” he said. “There’s a possibility they react differently to it,” he explained and she nodded curtly.

“Okay, so, what do we do?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I would need to see him myself.”

Yennefer laughed, sharp. “Not happening.”

“Then I’m afraid this conversation is over,” he said. “Goodbye, Yennefer.”

Huffing, she turned and stormed out of the door.

“I was wrong,” he told Triss, frowning. “It’s not Yennefer.”

She nodded, touching his arm. “And… you’re disappointed?” she asked.

Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve hated the whole soulmate thing since I was young and my father left but… fuck, I was kind of excited, Triss, and I shouldn’t be–soulmates are a load of bullshit, but–”

“But you can’t help how you feel,” she finished quietly. “It’s okay, Jaskier.”

He looked at her with a small, sad smile. “Doesn’t matter. It wasn’t her, anyway.”

“But you’re still feeling it,” she said. “There’s no faking that.”

Jaskier shrugged, looking down at his hands. “But if it’s not her… she stopped me, Triss,” he said, furrowing his brows. “She’s the only magician in town, excluding you and the healer, so. It was her. Why–why would she do that if she knew we weren’t soulmates?”

Triss blinked, once. “Jaskier, I have an idea.” She looked at him expectantly. “Do you trust me?”

He stared back at her. “Yes,” he said, meaning it.

Grinning, she grabbed his hands and squeezed. “Okay, so–”

Yennefer kissed his forehead, covering it with a damp cloth afterwards. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, and he nodded. “Just get some rest, okay?”

Geralt laughed weakly. “I’ve been sleeping for days, Yen.”

“And you will keep resting until things get better,” she replied firmly.

He watched silently as she walked out of the room. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

Yennefer walked to the market. She bought a few of Geralt’s favorite things and smiled, satisfied, as she turned and–collided with another body, spilling her basket.

She crouched down and–“Fuck,” she whispered, a weird feeling in her chest.

“Fuck,” a voice parroted and she looked up into the warm brown eyes of a freckled woman. “Do you feel that?”

Yennefer blinked, once. “Fuck,” she repeated. She’d been so worried about Geralt’s soulmate she never even considered she’d bump–literally–into her own.

“Triss,” the woman said, picking up an opinion and dropping it in her basket.

Yennefer stared at her. “Yennefer,” she said tersely.

Jaskier knocked on the door and waited, counting the seconds. He was just thinking he should give up when the door opened, just a crack.

And that was all it took–something, the pull, tugged on his heart almost violently. The person–the man–obviously felt it, too, the door swinging open as he groaned, nearly falling.

Jaskier caught him. Not an easy fret, considering the guy was huge. “Hey,” he said worriedly. “Are–are you okay?”

He looked up at him and blinked, wetting his dry lips. “I–I am,” he said and slowly stood up on his own two legs. “I am,” he repeated in disbelief, staring at Jaskier with wide eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Um.” Jaskier grinned sheepishly. “Hi, I’m Jaskier and I think we’re soulmates.”

Geralt sat in the living area with Jaskier, both quiet. He wasn’t just feeling okay, he realized startlingly, the longer he was around Jaskier the better he felt, a warm buzz.

He looked over at Jaskier, who smiled nervously. “You feel that, too, right?”

Geralt grunted in reply just as the door opened. He looked over and saw Yennefer walk in with another woman. Yennefer saw them sitting together and nearly dropped her basket.

The woman–the stranger–caught it and placed it on a table. “Hi, Jaskier.”

Jaskier waved awkwardly. “Hey, Triss. Uh.” He raised his eyebrows. “So.”

“Want to hear something crazy?” she said. “Yennefer and I are soulmates.”

Geralt stood up suddenly, and Yennefer rushed to him. “You shouldn’t be standing,” she said. “Wait,” she stepped back, looking him up and down. “You look–”

“Better?” he finished knowingly.

Yennefer looked over at Jaskier. “Yeah,” she said. “Better.”

Jaskier looked down. No one said anything. Triss cleared her throat. “Okay, well,” she started, “I feel like… we all need to have a very, very long talk.”

“So,” Triss said. “Where should we star–”

Geralt looked at Yennefer and there was something like fury in his eyes. “You knew,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

She frowned and stared back, unwavering. “Don’t,” she said. “I was just–”

“Lying,” he interrupted gruffly. “Why? Did you think I’d dump your ass?”

Yennefer bristled and leaned across the table, glaring daggers. “Keep talking to me like that,” she said, fingertips sparking. “See what happens.”

“Okay, okay,” Triss said. “Perhaps we should… start elsewhere.”

Jaskier sighed and decided fuck it. “I was never interested in soulmates,” he said, and Yennefer glared at him. Geralt looked at him, eyes softening. He felt weirdly giddy. “Mine or otherwise because, well, I had bad experiences growing up. But there was no ignoring it, huh?” He looked at Geralt, and he nodded, agreeing. “But I can tell it was even worse for you, so I’m sorry for not figuring it out sooner.”

“I think I could’ve been happy with you, Yen,” Geralt said, speaking slow, “if I’d never found my soulmate.”

She cringed visibly. “Yeah,” she said, like she knew this was coming.

“But–” Geralt looked at Jaskier.

Jaskier smiled, just the barest hint of teeth. “I get it,” he said, just to him. “I–I feel amazing, too, better than I have in days–no, months.”

“That’s what happens,” Triss said quietly. “That’s the magic of soulmates.”

Jaskier nodded silently. “So.”

“So,” Geralt parroted, and Yennefer sighed.

“Please,” she said dryly. “I’ve received the message, loud and clear.”

Geralt stood up and reached out, and Jaskier took his hand. Jaskier glanced at Yennefer, feeling guilty, before Geralt was tugging him out of the cottage. He closed the door and stood there, in silence, with him for a few long seconds.

“I feel bad,” he said, “I mean, I never wanted to hurt any–”

Geralt leaned down and kissed him, soft and sweet, on the lips. Jaskier felt sparks, toes curling. This was it–why people searched, far and wide, for their soulmates.

“Oh,” he breathed when Geralt pulled back. “Okay, um. Wow.”

Geralt grunted. “I know we just met,” he said, “but it’s like…”

“We’ve known each other forever,” he finished quietly. Geralt nodded and Jaskier smiled lightly. “Well, I think that’s bullshit,” he said. “I mean, there’s no denying–” he gestured at his lips. “Yeah, but. I don’t know. I’d prefer getting to know you the old fashion way.”

Geralt’s lips twitched upward, almost a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “But I really am sorry about… you know.”

Geralt hmmed, glancing at the door. “If I’m being honest, I don’t think I ever really thought Yen was the one. Not–not because of the soulmate thing,” he said quickly. “Most of what we had was… well, we were compatible in some ways, and not others.”

Jaskier nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Triss is a really good person,” he said, feeling unexpectedly protective. “Yennefer should feel lucky.”

Turning, Geralt tried to open the door but–“what?” He pulled, hard, but nothing. Jaskier leaned against the door, listening, and quickly pulled away, bright red in the face.

“Uh, you might wanna–” he gestured wildly at the door. “Not do that.”

Geralt frowned, confused, and pressed his ear against the door. He pulled away after a second and nodded, looking amused more than anything. “Well,” he said. “She moves on fast.”

Jaskier barked out a laugh. “Well,” he said with a coy grin. “Gotta say, I don’t feel so bad now–stealing her man and all.”

“Right,” Geralt drawled.

Jaskier grinned. “So. Um. Since we definitely don’t want to go back in there,” he said, pointing at the door. “Want to–I don’t know–do something?”

“Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier just grinned wider, eyes sparkling. “Oh, I have a few ideas.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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